


Proof

by RileyC



Category: Oz - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-06
Updated: 2010-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 23:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is afraid Toby will walk out of Oz one day, and all he'll have left are memories. Toby begs to differ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dawnydiesel, for the Team Tergesen Auction (2005); and beta'd by maverick4oz.

_...one night in Oz…_

Kissing a lazy trail back up Chris' body, Toby fitted himself along the hard body he'd just made love to, watching his face. "Better now?" he asked, hoping some of the melancholy mood had lifted at least.

Chris smiled, looking pleased enough, yet a hint of sadness seemed to linger all the same. "Yeah, you could say that."

Toby kissed that mouth, lingering, darting his tongue against already swollen lips. "Still don't want to talk about it?"

Chris sighed, fingers tangling in his hair. "It's just..."

Holding him, kissing his neck and shoulder, Toby prompted, "What?"

"I got to thinking, that's all."

"Oh, yes, nothing good could come of that." And if that got his ass pinched it also brought a brighter smile to Chris' face. "Thinking about what?" he asked, and wished that didn't bring some trace of sorrow back to his eyes.

"Just... You're gonna walk outta here someday, Toby, and," he sighed again, chest heaving under Toby's arm, "and I won't have anything to remember you by. Not even a picture," he added, looking so serious, as if this mattered more than words could ever express. "What if I forget?"

One hand laid alongside his face, Toby looked back at him, wanting to tease him out of this mood. "You'd forget what I look like?"

"No, never, it's just..." Another frustrated sigh, Chris looking away like the words he wanted would appear in the air. Like he'd been fretting about this way too much. "I'll never forget you, Toby," he whispered, kissing him as if to make it a vow.

But something to remember him by wouldn't come amiss, Toby realized. He thought about that too, afraid he'd forget the exact color of Chris' eyes, or remember his smile but not that dimple in his cheek. "Well, I think we're both pretty indelible," he said, kissing the corner of his mouth, "but maybe we can come up with some kind of solution."

Hope and skepticism blending in his eyes, Chris asked, "Like what?"

"I don't know." Toby scootched around, settled Chris against him, one leg thrown over his. "Let's sleep on it. Okay?"

Chris nuzzled his shoulder, murmured, "Okay," as Toby held him, ideas already turning over in his busy brain.

~*~

_a few weeks later_

Entering the pod, Chris immediately spotted the package, wrapped up in silver paper and tied with a red bow, in the middle of his bunk. He shot a suspicious look over at Toby, slouched in the chair with a book open on his lap, and took a couple of cautious steps forward.

"What is that?"

Toby looked at him, over at the package, putting on an impressive show of surprise. "Hmm, I don't know."

"Maybe elves bought it?"

Lips pooched out like he was considering that, Toby said, "Could be."

Chris frowned at him, aimed a more ferocious glare at the package, and reached over to give it a wary nudge. It didn't make any kind of sound and it felt fairly solid but not very heavy as he picked it up for a closer inspection, uncomfortably aware of Toby's avid gaze all the while. That alone told him this had to be something special, making the prospect of opening it all the scarier. Chris fiddled with the ribbon, not sure what to do. He hated surprises, even when they were good ones; maybe especially that kind, in fact. Something nasty sneaking up behind him and catching him all unawares? No problem; just life as he knew it, and he'd roll with the punch whatever form it took. Nothing in his life had prepared him for Toby and occasions like this.

"You know, most people get a present, it makes them happy and excited," Toby said, gently teasing him.

Yeah, he knew that. "I wasn't expecting anything," he said, feeling Toby come up behind him, a hand resting against the small of his back. "It's not my birthday."

"Nope." Toby rubbed his back lightly. "Isn't Christmas, either," he added, slowly running his hand up Chris' back to rest at the nape of his neck. "Just because presents can be the best kind," he said, underscoring it with a caress that ruffled his hair.

"Says you," Chris returned, having trouble sorting through everything he was feeling. How much worse would that be when he opened the damn thing? "What is it?"

"Baby," Toby was standing so close, he felt the words as puffs of air against his skin, "there's only one way to find that out."

He fumbled with the ribbon, fingers so customarily nimble suddenly clumsy and uncertain. "How'd you'd get it in here? Nobody saw you?"

"Nobody saw. Here," Toby reached to help him tug the ribbon free, steadying his hands.

He nodded, pulled in a couple of deep breaths, shot a quick look around to make sure no one was watching. "Why you gotta do stuff like this?"

An impish sparkle in his eyes, Toby said, "Because I love fucking with your mind, Chris." Then, serious now, "Will you just open the damn thing?"

He shot him an exasperated look, betting there'd been some truth in that answer, and tore at the paper, nervous excitement fluttering in his belly. There was a box underneath, long and flat, and he carefully nudged the lid up and off, pushed the tissue paper aside -- and sucked in another sharp breath as he saw it, as he realized what Toby had done. Brows drawn together, throat tight, he ran his fingers over it, barely touching. "You remembered," he said, hardly believing it.

"I remember everything, Chris."

He looked around at him, eyes stinging, wanting to kiss him. "Thank you," he whispered, lifting out the leather frame, set with three photographs. On the right was one of him that he recognized; Bonnie'd snapped it out in the Nevada desert, him leaning back against his '61, red T-bird. Over on the left was one of Toby and his kids; pretty recent, and he recognized the background of the visitor's room they used for the kids. The one in the middle, though... He ran his fingers over that again, him and Toby together, looking real as could be. "How'd you do this?"

"Angus did it on his computer. Came out pretty well, didn't it? Had him make two sets."

"Yeah, it came out great," he said, then stopped to think. Two sets? "Toby, why two?"

Touching his face, eyes gentle now, Toby said, "Well, so I'd have my own, of course."

Chris searched his eyes, hardly able to believe that, that Toby would want to remember anything about Oz -- him, least of all. Try as he might, he couldn't find any reason to believe that was anything but the simple truth. "Thank you," he whispered again, not meaning the pictures now, and not giving a damn who saw as he pressed a kiss to Toby's forehead.

Equally defiant, Toby kept a hand around his neck, lips brushing his temple. "So you like it?"

He smiled, loving him more than ever. "Yeah, I like it. A lot." Wouldn't make it any easier to watch him go, but ... But that wasn't tonight, or tomorrow. For a little while longer yet he could still touch him and kiss him and keep him close, and he'd never need a photograph to remind him how that felt.

He wanted to savor this, hold onto this moment forever -- but this was Oz, no concessions made, and even now Murphy was yelling, "Count!" and Mineo was making the rounds as everyone fell out to be accounted for before lights out. Afraid of this amazing gift being confiscated on some spiteful whim, the hacks inventing a new rule on the spot just because they could, Chris hurriedly stashed everything out of sight in the locker before taking his place in line beside Toby.

And the moment wasn't lost, not entirely, not when Toby bumped their shoulders together and shot him a sideways look that promised another gift before the day was entirely finished. Although Chris had a hunch this one wouldn't come tied in a red bow.

Of course, where Toby was concerned, sometimes he could believe anything might be possible.

~*~

"Are you going to look at that all night?"

Chris breathed out a soft laugh, not sure why he couldn't leave the pictures alone. Afraid they might evaporate if he didn't keep touching them, looking at them? Nuts, sure, he knew that. But he still couldn't quite make himself put it away yet. So he answered, "Maybe," and settled back against the hard, flat mattress, the images already seared on his eyeballs so he could see them in the dark.

Over at the basin, putting away his toothbrush, Toby shot him an indulgent smile before coming over, sitting down on the edge of the bunk. "You don't get a lot of presents, do you?" he asked, meaning it in a joking way, but a hurt coming into his eyes as he realized that might be true.

Chris didn't want to see those beautiful eyes looking sad and bruised, not tonight, and reached up to touch him, hand sliding up and down his arm and feeling how strong it was, fingers playing along the tendons. "Got enough," he said. "Got you."

"Oh yeah, I'm what everybody wants to find under their tree Christmas morning."

"Who's being self-deprecating now?"

"Well," Toby gave him an innocent look with a kick of devilry in the background, "am I cute at least?"

"Yeah," Chris' fingers trailed up to his shoulder, traced his collarbone and watched his eyes drift closed at the caress, "like you don't know." Hand slipping around to cup the back of his neck, he drew Toby down into a kiss, tasting his lips, his tongue. "And for the record, Beech?"

Toby's tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth. "Yeah?"

A slow burn of excitement smoldering in his belly, Chris nuzzled his ear, whispered, "There ain't nothin' I'd rather unwrap and play with Christmas morning." He drew his mouth along Toby's jaw, up under his chin, hearing his breath come faster, and scooted over to make more room. Stretching out on their sides, just looking at each other for a little bit, Chris stroked the back of his hand along Toby's face. "Wish I had something for you," he said, not able to keep the wistfulness out of his voice.

"Hmm, funny, I was under the impression you did."

"I don't mean sex, Toby."

"You know what, Chris?" He kissed his lips, like they were just getting to know each other. "Neither do I."

"So what else have I given you?" Because he really couldn't see how there had been anything much like a gift along the way.

"You mean besides loving me?"

"That ain't hard." Easy as drawing air.

"I could find some people who would beg to differ."

"Assholes."

Toby smiled. "Not necessarily, but thank you. Chris," he sighed, resting a hand on his stomach, "you've saved my life, you've saved my sanity. You take me exactly as I am," he went on, really earnest now. "That is an amazing gift for anyone."

Uncomfortable, positive he didn't deserve any of those words, Chris said, "Don't know any other way to love you, Toby."

Managing to look happy and sad at the same time, Toby nodded. "And that's a gift too."

"Yeah, well…" Fingers tangled in blond curls, frowning as he thought that over, he said, "But it's not something you can put in a box and wrap in pretty paper."

"That's true, I guess." Propping himself up on an elbow, he ran a hand along Chris' thigh, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes now. "There is something you could give me."

"What?" Chris said and gasped as the blond head lowered over him, lips and tongue exploring that old butterfly tat.

One more kiss, then Toby rested his head there, silky hair tickling sensitive flesh. "Tell me about this."

"The…" he had to take a second to really process it, "the tat?"

"Yes."

Didn't seem like much to him, but if that's what Toby wanted… "Got it when I was twenty, just out of Lardner," he told him, hoping there wouldn't be questions about that because he really didn't want Schillinger casting a shadow here.

Like he understood that without Chris saying a word, Toby nodded, the sensation doing amazing things to his groin. "Why a butterfly?"

"'Cause," he reached down to hike up Toby's green t-shirt so he could touch his back, "it was pretty," he said, smiling at the huffy look he got in return.

"It is adorable, yes, but try again, Keller."

He sighed, wishing Toby could he happy with simple answers because some things were just hard to put into words. "When I got out, I was gonna turn my life around, go back to school, make something of myself, try and make somebody proud of me." Smile turning rueful, he added, "Guess you know how that turned out."

"Chris…"

"Shh, it's okay." He'd made his bed, had nobody but himself to blame for anything. "Back then, though, I really thought it could happen, really thought it was possible, and I figured maybe something I could look at every day to remind me what I was shooting for could help. When I was at Lardner, I spent a lot of time in the library," that had been one of the few places he could count on being left alone, "and somewhere I came across these stories, myths, about butterflies, how they're symbols of rebirth and metamorphosis." He shook his head against the pillow. "Figured that'd be as good a symbol as any and found this girl who knew just what I meant."

Toby raised his head to look at him. "Really?" he said, something snippy in his tone, like he could actually be jealous of some girl twenty years in the past.

Trying not to smile, Chris said, "Yeah. She's the one decided it should be pretty. Said there wasn't such a thing as tough-looking butterfly."

"Hmm. And what else did she say?"

"Toby," he sighed, stroked his thumb along down turned lips, "it was twenty fucking years ago. You didn't know I existed."

"You think I'm jealous."

"Oh yeah." Pissed off that anyone else had ever touched him, wanting to be the only one Chris had ever known.

Funny thing was how much Chris wished that could be true.

"Well I'm not," Toby insisted. "Just," he let out a sigh too, "I wish I had known you existed then, wish I could have picked out the butterfly."

Tugging him up, needing to kiss his mouth, Chris murmured, "That's a good wish. Bet you could've found me a mean sonofabitch butterfly."

Smiling against his lips, Toby let out another deep exhalation. "You know what?" He kissed him, easy and comfortable. "I think this one's perfect, Chris." He settled against him again, holding him. "Metamorphosis, huh?"

"Uh-huh." This was the best gift he'd ever get from Toby, this luxury of being held, every mask of bravado stripped away because he didn't need them here, didn't need to pretend here in Toby's arms.

"Pretty big word."

"Know a few."

Toby's lips brushed his cheek. "Thank you for my gift."

Chris turned his head, kissed him back. "Thanks for mine," he whispered back. "You think people can do that, start out one thing and come out something else?"

"I hope so."

"Yeah, that'd be good, wouldn't it?" he said, picking up the frame again, studying that picture of him and Toby together, like something that could have been.

No, like something that was, he realized. They were like that, he guessed as he touched the picture. They'd started out as a lie and now they were the only truth he believed.

And the best thing? The proof in the picture was that Toby believed it too.

~the end~


End file.
